


butterfly lies (chase them away)

by clumsylou



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: 18-Year-Old Harry Styles, 19-Year-Old Louis Tomlinson, Abusive Parents, Baker Harry Styles, Comedy, Eventual Smut, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Humor, Harry is basically the loveliest thing Louis has ever seen, Homophobia, I Don't Even Know, Its wholesome in a weird way, Louis is secretive, Louis is studying to become a social worker, Louis is the only one who’s English btw, M/M, Minor Angst, NO DEATH :), Past Drug Use, Smut, Top Louis Tomlinson, Top/Bottom Versatile Louis Tomlinson, Zouis besties, cause i’m broken and i need it to stay sane. i need zouis, high school larry, i REALLY had to, i forgot to tag that earlier oops, niall just has to be irish though that’s his thing, not even eventual sorry, not in a toxic way he just hates bitches, sorry i had to, you’ll get it eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-09
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29858775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clumsylou/pseuds/clumsylou
Summary: What happens when some vulgar English dude sets his sights on the sweetest man on Earth?or, the AU where Louis is dark and twisty and falls for sweet little baker boy Harry.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	1. one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry meets Louis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome to whatever the fuck this is gonna be

Harry led a fortunate life.

He had a great home life, great friends, a great job, and he managed okay grades. Most of all, though, a non-dramatic social life. Never did Harry ever find himself in a problematic situation. His friends weren’t exactly the same, and they envied him for it.

Often he finds himself wishing his life was just a little more interesting, but he thought it best to stay out of trouble. He’s got his best friends, his mom, his sister, and his cat. What more could Harry even _want_?

Taking a deep breath and stretching his arms in front of him, Harry grabs his bag and begins to trudge down the stairs of his spacious home. He was grateful for that, too. Once downstairs, he quickly grabs a slice of toast before kissing his mother on the cheek and leaving.

Her “drive safe,” request always earns a muffled “you know I will,” from her son.

Harry, of course, drove safe. A little secret of his is that he had a bit of road rage, which is part of the reason why he never lets anyone ride in the car with him. Carpooling is _not_ an option when it comes to him.

Arriving at his school after a brief stop at the bakery, he hops out of his car optimistically. He woke up today with an anxiety-like feeling, so he’s trying to fight it off with hopefulness. Harry always knew when he was going to have a bad day, but he’s hoping today won’t be one of them. It’s nice outside in California, finally. Chilly weather with a breeze, yet not too cold for a jacket was basically the blueprint to a fantastic day. Harry will be damned if he lets something ruin this.

Immediately Harry meets Liam, already waiting at his locker for him.

“You got the—?”

Harry shakes his head as he shoves his math homework answers to him before he could finish. He’s gotten good at mass producing every single answer to all of his homework in case someone needed it. The teachers knew, yet oddly didn’t care at all.

“Yes,” Harry replies, smirking as his friend’s face lit up. “I’ve really got to stop doing this for everyone.”

“No, you don’t,” Niall interjects, walking up to Harry with his hand extended. A copy of the homework answers was soon laid there.

“Thanks, Harry.”

“Yeah, sure,” Harry replies, rolling his eyes when the pair in front of him high five. Leaning against his locker, he pulls out his phone. He wasn’t ever one for wasting hours on hours of time on the small device, but it was good in doses. He mainly scrolled about posts from people at his school, and a bunch of them seemed to be warning his school for a new transfer. Harry secretly wondered what it was about, but the bell rang, so he didn’t look much into it after that.

Niall and Harry part ways with Liam at once, the pair strolling to their first class in comfortable silence. For an unknown reason, Harry found himself dreading all of his classes. It wasn’t like him to have a very strong urge to skip the entire day to sleep, but oh well. He did today.

After goofing off with Niall for the first fifteen minutes of their math class, Harry decided it was fine to zone out of the actual lesson for today. It’s not like they were learning anything new, it was mostly all review. Harry’s luckily off work tonight, so the homework he’d usually finish in class will just have to wait until he gets home. What’s one day of goofing off, anyway? Harry’s never missed a day of school. He believes he’s fine.

“Did you hear we’re getting a transfer today?” Niall asks Harry while loudly opening a bag of one of many bags of Doritos he always brings. Harry thinks it’s ironic he doesn’t eat potato chips, but that’s besides the point.

“Yeah, I did actually,” he replies as he doodles mindlessly on the margins of his notebook paper, “what’s all that about?”

“Apparently he’s from England, which is why people are freaking out.”

“And?” Harry chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. He never did get why everyone obsessed over British people. The obsession was insane to him—specifically because only variations of the English accent were appealing to them. What’s wrong with Scottish? Welsh? Hell, Niall used to get made fun of for his Irish-ness. 

“Maybe that’s not completely it,” the faux-blonde teen allows, “I heard he’s been known to stir up some trouble, too. I guess you won’t be making friends with him.”

Aw. That’s actually too bad, Harry thinks. He’s known for befriending all the exchange students.

He decides to shrug. “Maybe he’s not too bad. Shouldn’t we give him a chance before writing him off?”

Niall only laughs in response. “Oh, Harry. You’re a saint.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You see the good in everyone,” Niall explains matter-of-factly, “even when there’s no use.”

“Who’s to say there’s no good in this dude?” Harry questions, feeling himself starting to get a little annoyed. “We don’t even know him.”

“I heard that he’s been to jail. What good deed did he do to get put in the slammer?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “All I’m saying is we should be a little open minded.”

Niall sighs in response. He throws his hands up to show Harry that he doesn’t have anything left to say. His friend is going to get himself in trouble one day. “Fine.” Niall says, picking up his pencil and twirling it slowly in his fingers, “give him a chance. Maybe you’re right and he _is_ worth it. Just don’t get locked in with the wrong crowd.”

“I’m sorry, are you actually upset with me about this?” Harry counters, “for all we know, those could be rumours. I’m actually disappointed in the fact that you’re not even willing to see that.”

“I just don’t see the point in negotiating on whether or not a criminal is worth your time,” his friend explained as he rubs his temples as if he’s trying to hold back, “I’m not trying to treat you like a child, because you’re not. I just don’t want to see you turn into someone you don’t want to be.”

“And trying to befriend someone who may or may not have committed a crime is suddenly going to alter my moral compass? Yeah, sure.” Harry scoffs, not sure what else to say. Deep in his heart, he knows that Niall means well, but it’s sort of irritating at the moment. “I know where my limits are.”

“I hope so,” Niall told him, and that was the last of it for the next few hours.

The subject wiggled its way back up later when Harry was in his second to last class. Harry’s day went about sort of mundane, but it was better than what the beginning of the day suggested it would be. This class he actually shared with Liam, and he’s in need for a good laugh, so he was excited to see him.

“Hey, Styles!” he greeted when Harry strode through the door, and a smile was immediately plastered on the young man’s face. 

Harry gave him a high five as he reached their shared table. “How’s your day been, man?”

Liam means to reply, but he’s interrupted by their teacher calling for their attention. A boy their age is standing beside her.

“That is so juvenile,” Harry hears the man tell their teacher, “I don’t want to introduce myself.”

A lit up lightbulb basically appears above Liam’s head as he thinks of something. “Do you think that’s—?”

Harry nods absentmindedly, and later shushes Liam so he can listen in on what he’s saying. He and their teacher seem to be going back and forth, fussing about why or why not he should introduce himself to the class.

All the while, Harry steadily analyses the man. The first thing he really notices is his posture. Straight as an arrow. Is it weird to be interested in the way he’s never seen a straighter spine? The next thing he notices is his overgrown brown hair and light dusting of it on his face. His lips were thin, but by no means unappealing. Harry was then captivated by the multiple tattoos on his arms, most only peeking out of the sleeve of his henley. 

Electric blue eyes suddenly met Harry’s green from across the room. The exploding punctuation of cerulean was enough to bring Harry out of his momentary funk.

Liam raised an eyebrow at his lost friend. “Are you okay?”

Harry mumbled something unintelligible, and the boy must’ve been watching the whole thing because his thin lips pulled themselves back into a smirk.

“Oh,” Harry’s friend realises, “you’re drooling, that’s what it is. Okay.”

“I’m not,” he elbows Liam while glaring at him, “ _drooling_.”

The boy standing at the front of the classroom shrugs, gaze never ceasing its bore through Harry’s fragile brain. “I’m Louis,” he introduces finally, accented voice the true last straw for all of Harry’s sensibility.

Maybe Harry judged the overrated-ness of English accents too soon.

“I’m English, which the ladies, I assume, will enjoy,” he continues, “but there it is,” he turns to the teacher, “your introduction. Can I sit now, ma’am?”

“Tell me I’m not the only one who gets misogynist vibes from him,” Liam asks, making Harry roll his eyes.

“Way to get to know the guy first.”

“Harry,” the woman at the front calls, “raise your hand for me, bud.”

Watching Louis’ fixation on him continue, Harry raises his hand quickly. He gulps a bit, not exactly knowing what facial expression to make back at the new guy. This wasn’t exactly Harry’s forte. 

“The empty desk in front of Harry. Sit in it.”

Louis nods, lips curved down into an exaggerated frown that advertised he was more amused than sad. All eyes were on him as he made his way to the empty desk, but Harry got the feeling it wasn’t because everyone thought he was attractive. It was more of them waiting for the class to begin again, and they’re paying him attention since he’s the one who disturbed it.

When Louis finally takes his seat in front of Harry, he learns that he’s even more distracting up close. If his personality turns out to be distracting too, he more than likely will have to switch his seat. Immediately. 

“Harry,” Louis tries. He says his name as if he’s trying it upon his tongue, yet not actually calling for Harry’s attention. Dipping his toes in, Harry decides on.

“I’m Liam,” said teen interjects, though his minor attempt at small talk is instantly turned down.

“Yeah,” Louis replies. “Does your friend talk, Liam?”

Galvanic blue eyes still trained over every inch of Harry’s face, not once threatening to pay any attention to Liam beside them. 

“Harry?”

“Who else?”

“Yeah, he talks,” Liam gulps, finding himself weirdly scared at the moment. He tries to look at Harry for help, but to no avail.

“I talk,” Harry confirms, a bashful expression wiping over his face when pink threatens to paint itself over the pale on his cheeks. Louis only hums in response. Another thirty minutes go by before any speaking starts again. It’s filled with sneaking glances from Harry, desperately wanting to know if he’s straight or not. He’s just curious really.

Louis smirks at the working boy, desperate for his attention in any possible way he can get it. He looks back at his friend, Liam, before moving his foot to run up the bottom of Harry’s leg. He responds immediately, face morphing into shock at the contact. Louis tilts his head when Harry’s green eyes finally meet him again, a teasing expression lingering in his eyes that he hopes reaches the other boy. All questions of “is he straight?” in Harry’s were answered. This is not just something you _do_.

“So, what’s your deal?” Louis asks quietly. Somehow he said it in such a tone that suggested he wasn’t actually trying to be quiet for sake of the lesson, but mocking the way their teacher requested silence.

“Harry’s a saint,” Liam tells him, “he’s great.”

“Why is everyone saying that?!” Harry whisper-shrieks. He’s tired of being perceived as a precious little baby. On all cylinders, it’s offensive. His friends can’t see that.

“Harry can speak for himself,” Louis tells Liam, “plus, I don’t believe in saints.”

Harry was interested in that. “Why not?”

“They never make mistakes,” Louis smirked.

Harry’s brows twisted in confusion for a second. He’s heard that line before.

“That’s a song lyric, isn’t it?” he decides.

Louis nods through a small smile. “It is. Do you know which song?”

Harry shrugs. He doesn’t really remember. He’d only heard it a few times a while ago. “Dunno… something about laundry was in the lyrics?”

The teen shrugged. “ _Dirty_ Laundry, yes,” Louis confirms. “By All Time Low. They’ve saved alternative music as we know it.” 

“I have no idea what this conversation is.” Liam states.

“Good,” Louis tells him, “it didn’t concern you in the first place.”

Harry frowned a bit. Louis was doing okay so far, but his attitude might throw that out the window.

“That was a little rude,” Harry tells him as he retracts his leg back so Louis couldn’t reach anymore.

Louis sighed as he leaned back a little, analysing Harry’s expression. Leaning into the desk and closer to Harry’s face, he smirks. “Does that irritate you,” he whispers, “darling?”

Nevermind. Thrill gone, Harry supposed. “I don’t know what you’re trying to do,” he whispered back, “but it’s not working.”

“Seems like it was for a while, yeah?” Louis fires back, winking at the taller boy. 

Harry scoffs when he leans back into his seat. Louis is an absolute tool. Well, actually, that’s not fair. He still doesn’t actually know him— but he’s not sure he even wants to if he’s straight-up rude.

“Is your friend gay, too?” Louis asks suddenly, and Liam chokes in response.

“‘Too’?” Liam asks.

“Yeah, ‘too’,” Louis mocks, “Curly over here is obviously gay.”

Harry scoffs again. What the hell? Louis isn’t _wrong,_ but what part of Harry is he assuming off of? 

“How in the hell would you know that,” Harry asks, secretly genuinely curious.

Louis laughs a bit at him, the sound resonating in Harry’s ears in a wonderful way. Harry hates it. He does. He promises. 

“If you’re asking if it’s obvious, it’s not,” Louis reassured him, “but I’m, uh…” he trails off, “it’s easier to tell when you’re in the same boat.”

Harry nods a bit, mentally racking up some brownie points for Louis. He still doesn’t really know how to feel about him. He doesn’t know what to think at all when every time their eyes meet, it feels like a direct strike of lightning going through Harry’s soul. 

“Louis, Harry,” Ms. Thompson calls out, “I’ll see you two after classes.”

What the fuck. Just like that, Harry’s entire mood went down into the gutter. He watches as Louis shakes his head and stands up.

“No, he’s fine. It was me. I’ll see you after, not him.”

Harry smiles a little, fury fading the smallest bit. But now that just turned into feeling bad for Louis. He didn’t have to do that.

“Louis, if you wanted to help Harry then you should’ve just kept your mouth shut. You’ve just added another detention period onto Styles’ squeaky clean record.”

Sitting down, Louis squeezes his lips together. “Sorry ‘bout that, lad.”

Harry was seething. He smiled in a way that showed it as he sat back in his chair with his face in his hands. This _quickly_ got him into trouble. Niall might’ve been right. 

“I’m going to castrate you.” Harry states through his smile. 

. . .

“Where’s Ms. Thompson?” Harry asks dryly when he walks back into the classroom for the allotted time of their detention.

“I literally have no clue,” Louis said, pronouncing the word as _li-trally,_ something that Harry should not have thought twice about. 

This weird and abundantly quick attraction to Louis needed to _end_. By no means was Harry a kid that had never been sexually attracted to anyone or never wanted that intimacy, but this was getting out of control. He’s known Louis for a good two hours and his brain is already short circuiting. It’s like with every new facial expression he sees, every bout of eye contact they have, Harry’s fantasising more and more. As aforementioned, it seriously needs to stop. 

Harry decides to sit across the classroom from Louis, taking a deep breath as he looks down at his folded hands. He made the mistake of looking up, groaning quietly to himself when he catches a glimpse of the other man stretching his back and setting his feet up on a desk. 

Harry was busy staring at the sliver of tan skin that peeked out from between the hem of Louis’ shirt and the beginning of his jeans when he hears his throat clear.

“Why are you sitting all the way over there?”

Harry shrugs. He chooses to be silent because he doesn’t have an excuse to make. Harry guesses he could say he’s a little rude, but he runs the risk of spurring the guy on more. 

“Silence,” Louis observes, “is that how it’s gonna be now?”

Harry shrugs again.

He watches Louis nod to himself, deciding to stay quiet and stare down at his phone screen.

Ms. Thompson walks in a moment later, informing the two that she has business to take care of and that they still should not exit the room until an hour has passed. They nodded in acknowledgement, making the older lady look pleased with herself.

“Harry, can you erase the board for me please?” she asks of him before she leaves, not allowing him enough time to respond. When she _asks_ , it’s more of a _demand_ anyway.

Harry sighs as he rises from his seat, trudging his way up to the white board that had been scribbled all over with her awful handwriting. He racked his brain for any ideas of how to survive the next fifty minutes and found nothing. He’s never been in this situation before. Harry’s quite disappointed in himself for being so wildly attracted to someone he’s known for the lesser half of five hours.

Fixated on erasing the board, Harry almost misses the body heat radiating from behind him. Had Louis not been the only other one in the room, he’s sure he’d be able to guess based on the scent alone. There was a faint citrusy scent, almost more sweet than tangy, but overpowering that was the scent of nicotine. Of course he was a smoker. The real issue was why Harry felt a pang of pure attraction at the realisation of that fact.

Before he could even gather proper thoughts, a warm hand firmly sat on his hip.

“Keep ‘em straight,” Louis tells him quietly, “your hips.”

“Y—“ Harry croaked in response, “are you seriously telling me how to, uh, erase a whiteboard?”

He can feel Louis shrug somehow, his eyes threatening to roll back with the smallest inching forward from the man behind him. 

Louis places his other hand on Harry’s other hip, rubbing harsh circles through the fabric and into his skin. “You were moving awfully slow.”

He moves his hands up to the base of his shoulders, pressing deeply into them as he slowly massages the younger man’s back. “You’re tight,” he whispers against his neck, “did you know that?”

“Fuck,” Harry hisses, all self control tossed out the window. He can’t tell if he loves or hates this. He knew this would end _very_ badly. 

“Harder?” Louis asks slowly, pressing his hips into Harry’s backside, “do you need it harder?”

Harry actually lets out an audible groan, falling forward so his forehead makes contact with the coolness of the whiteboard. He feels Louis’ hands slowly move down his sides, curving into his torso, and back out to grab his hips again. He releases one hand, reaching it under Harry’s shirt and flattening his palm against his spine. When he drags his hands back, he makes sure to trail his short nails down Harry’s pale skin. Harry’s breath hitches at this, earning a smirk from Louis.

“So, it _is_ working.”

Fuck it. Louis was right. Harry can’t even deny it at this point, and even if he tried, the bulge he was sporting would surely sell him out.

“Maybe,” Harry whispers, determined to not let Louis know _just_ how weak he is for him already. If not to be serious, then for the thrill of it all. 

“Can I touch you?” Louis asks quietly, and for some reason it made Harry shudder.

“Aren’t you already?” Harry quips, but it wasn’t exactly false. Louis _was_ touching him.

Louis nods, searing his lips to the skin of Harry’s neck, making the boy jump. “I am, yes,” he admits, “but consent is key for the things I want to do to you.”

Harry full-on moans now, literally unable to resist what Louis was saying. He felt dirty getting into something like this at all, let alone with someone he _just_ met. Fuck if he didn’t want him like hell, though.

“Is that a yes, babe?”

Harry nods frantically then, squeaking when Louis flips him over and pushes him into the board harshly.

“I need a vocal answer.”

Fuck it. “Yeah,” Harry answers, “I don’t care. Do what you want.”

Louis smirked then, immediately bringing his lips down to the front of Harry’s neck now, Harry too much in a daze to yell at him because he’s _obviously_ fixing to leave marks on him. Harry moans for him again, the hardness of Louis’ teeth sending his brain into a fog.

“Have you ever done something like this before?” Louis asks, genuinely curious and interested in his answer. 

Before Harry had a chance to answer, Louis shifted his hips forward, grinding his hardening member against Harry’s—who threw his head back harshly onto the whiteboard and groaned out Louis’ name. 

“You’re so responsive,” Louis compliments, licking over the bite he placed on Harry’s neck, “you’re not a virgin, are you?”

Harry whined out as Louis shifted against him again. He bit his lip hard before he responded.

“I’m gonna be honest with you,” Harry ground out, arching his neck into another mark Louis decided to leave.

“Mm?”

“I’ve never even been kissed,” Harry admits, which makes Louis stop everything he’s doing to stare at the younger man.

Louis smiles at him. “You’re joking.”

Harry shakes his head in response. “I’m not.”

He nods, and Harry was about to say something before Louis' lips crashed against his. Shocked at first, Harry jolts a little before giving in. It wasn’t perfect, but Harry welcomed it anyway. It’s definitely not how he imagined how his first kiss would go—half-hard and horny as hell, but it is what it is. 

It was hard to think past the rush of mint and nicotine that passed Harry’s sense of taste when Louis licked his way into his parted mouth. Something about it was just so fucking _hot_. 

Louis presses himself into Harry more, shoving him against the whiteboard as far as he can go. Louis groaned lowly into his mouth, sending vibrations down Harry’s throat in a way that he knew he would end up addicted to. Louis moved off of Harry’s now wet lips, leaving a trail of kisses on his cheek and down to the very center of his neck. 

“Is it wrong that knowing you’re a virgin makes you hotter?” Louis asks against his neck, “I wanted to fuck you earlier,” he continues, “I still do, but now I just wanna fucking _wreck_ you.”

“Ah,” Harry lets out a guttural groan. Fuck. Why does he actually _want_ that to happen? 

“Do you want that?” Louis asks, making his way back up to the taller man’s lips. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

Harry didn’t really know how to respond. He wasn’t sure if he genuinely wanted Louis or he was just a, you know, horny eighteen year old boy who longed to be touched in every way. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t want anything to happen between them, though.

Louis grabbed Harry’s lips with his own again, his kisses extremely soft but in a bold way that made Harry’s head spin. The taste of spearmint and cigarettes on Louis’ tongue was something Harry _really_ wanted to get used to. Again, Harry has to remind himself that they’ve known each other for two and a half hours. The way Louis’ tongue would twist around Harry’s scared him. It felt like it was supposed to be there, like they fit together perfectly. With every other swipe of the older man’s tongue across Harry’s lips, he tasted a slight tang that left him wishing for more. It was but the taste of just a natural mouth, yet it was safe to say that Harry was already addicted to it.

“I asked a question, baby,” Louis hissed against his lips. “Is it safe to say that this,” he reaches down to cup the other man through his jeans, “means yes?”

Harry wasn’t in control of the way he nodded so enthusiastically, or the way he arches his back off the board when Louis palms him tighter and tighter. 

“Please,” Harry chokes out, writhing against Louis, “please, I—“

“Please what?” Louis smirks, hiking up Harry’s legs around his waist to hold him against the wall. He slips his fingers under the waistline of his boxers as he grinds harder against him.

“I’m gonna— _ah_ ,” he moans, clearly unable to get out a whole sentence.

“Fuck,” Louis cusses, “already? You weren’t joking about the virgin thing.”

Harry breathes heavier when the other man’s hands travel down to his ass, digging his nails through his jeans hard enough to make Harry hitch his breath in pain. 

“Did that hurt?”

Harry nods in response, “yeah, b-but, I— it, I don’t mind that—“

Louis liked that answer apparently, sucking on a new spot on his neck to make Harry whimper more.

“I like how loud you are,” he whispers, “I wanna see how loud I can get you.”

Harry rolls his eyes back, jolting his hips messily in response to Louis’ movements. He most definitely was going to come in his jeans. 

“Your thighs are fucking gorgeous,” Louis comments, “I can’t wait to see them in all of their glory.”

“Want you,” Harry whimpers, “so bad, _sobadsobadsobad,_ uh!” he cries in a high-pitched moan, “fuck, I bet you’re big.”

“Oh, shit,” Louis groans against his neck, “I knew you had it in you. Fuck. You’re gonna make _me_ come talking like that, baby.”

Harry’s back arches again, trying his best to grind back onto Louis’ bulge, whining every time Louis squeezes a good grip on his thighs.

“I want y-you to,” Harry gasped, “i-in me, fuck, that’d be—“

“Oh, my _God_ ,” Louis moaned, “come. Come _now_. If I do first, that’ll be so embarrassing. C’mon, Harry. C—“

“What the fuck?!” a feminine voice shrieked following the sound of a dropped and shattered item.

Louis immediately lets go of Harry, having him land on his feet himself. 

“Go,” Ms. Thompson tells them when they turn back to her, “go now. If you get out of here within ten seconds, I won’t report this. Don’t bother showing up to detention tomorrow. I don’t care.”

Louis and Harry practically bolt out of there after grabbing their bags. Running with hard-ons wasn’t exactly a desirable task.

“Wanna get off in the bathroom?” Louis jokes when they’re down the hall.

“Absolutely not,” Harry tells him, slightly angry at himself. “We shouldn’t have even done _that._ No.”

“Damn,” said Louis, “one minute you’re asking me to come inside you and the next you’re pushing me away?”

“I have dinner with my family in like an hour,” Harry explains, “even if I wanted to finish—“

“Which you _do._ ”

“I _can’t_ ,” Harry decides on. “I have to leave. Thanks for… whatever that was but. Yeah. Bye.”

Harry bolts out of the exit, running to his car. He was very eager to sit in it with the doors locked.

Once he’s in the locked vehicle, he buries his head in his hands. What was he _thinking_? His brain truly got the best of him. That’s it. Who else wouldn’t lose their mind in a situation like that? Trying desperately to shake it out of his head, he attempts to start his car.

The engine didn’t budge.

“What the fuck?” Harry asks no one in particular, turning the key harder, but to no avail. 

He gets out of the car, slamming his door on his way out. This has _never_ happened to him. He has a good car. It was perfectly fine this morning.

Harry decides to check under the hood, but quickly realises he actually has no idea what he’s looking for. He texts his mom real quick, asking her if she can pick him up. She replies positively instantly. 

“Car decided to not work?” Louis asks from behind Harry, making the younger of the two groan aloud.

“What’re you doing here?” Harry questions, refusing to even turn around. If he does, he’s positive he’ll let the man do him on the hood of the car.

“This is the _parking lot_ , Harry. Am I not allowed to be here?” 

“Fine,” Harry turns around. “No, it’s not working. And now I have to call my mother to pick me up and explain why I have _hickeys_ everywhere.”

Louis rolls his eyes. He was growing real tired of Harry’s attitude already. “Come here,” he requests, pulling something out of his bag.

“No,” Harry tells him.

“I’m not going to fucking kill you, Harry. Just come here.”

Reluctantly, Harry walks toward him. Louis scoffs at his resistance, but pours a substance on his fingertip and begins to rub it over each of the marks he left on Harry’s pale skin.

“You just carry around concealer?” Harry smirks, knowing for a fact that Louis rolled his eyes at that. Harry hadn’t even noticed the cigarette poking out of his mouth until his speech became muffled.

“I have sisters,” Louis explains simply.

“So?” Harry giggles, “that doesn’t explain why you have concealer.”

“When I see them, I bring them makeup and shit. It’s what they like.”

Harry’s heart swells a bit at that. “That’s nice,” he says quietly.

Louis shrugs. “Guess so.”

They sit in silence for a while as Louis takes care of Harry, Louis taking glances at Harry every now and then and giving small smiles that were never returned. 

Harry didn’t even notice his mom pulled into the parking lot because he was too busy trying to distract himself from Louis’ fingers on his neck.

“Unfortunately, this concealer isn’t waterproof,” Louis tells him, capping up the tube. “I’m not that rich.”

Harry barks out a laugh at that, which makes Louis genuinely smile.

“So you’re either going to have to suddenly really like turtlenecks or scarves for a few days. Your choice. Mix it up, do both.”

“Will do.” Harry jokes. “Thanks, Louis.”

He smiles at Louis’ genuine smile and the way his eyes would crinkle at the sides. It was pretty, really. _Louis_ was pretty. He was sweet in a weird way, too. He doesn’t understand why people would judge him based on his reputation alone.

“Anytime.”

“You’re sweet,” Harry comments, and Louis makes a disgusted face which makes the younger laugh again.

“Ew. Gross,” he sticks out his tongue, “bleh. Why would you say that to me?”

Harry elbows him playfully, rolling his eyes at him. “I don’t know why people dislike you based on what rumours have been spread.”

Louis nodded in agreement. “Right! You kill _one_ guy and suddenly everyone hates you. It’s _disgusting_.”

Harry laughs loudly at that, a tingly feeling setting up shop in his stomach. Smiling at Louis, he feels as if the world stopped turning. Louis’ electric eyes stared into Harry’s again, and Harry felt breathless. His own eyes stared down at Louis’ pink lips for a split second, but just long enough for Louis to notice it.

He smiled teasingly. “You wanna kiss me, Styles?”

Harry nods lightly. “Maybe I do.”

Louis smiled at him in a way that made Harry want to tattoo it onto the inside of his eyelids. “Do you want a real first kiss?”

The tingling sensation in Harry’s stomach intensified at that. “If you want to,” he suggested with a bite on his lip.

Louis nods, shifting to the side before he begins to lean into the boy. He looks at Harry softly before slowly moving his hand up his thigh, finally landing on his hip. His other hand pulled him in by his neck gently, and the way Harry’s breath hitched made Louis smirk.

Harry wasn’t sure why he was nervous then. He let Louis kiss him, though, and it felt _magical._ The taste of cigarettes and mint flooded Harry’s system again, but this time in a chaste way. His lips were softer than they were twenty minutes ago, gentle yet experienced. Harry can’t believe he found himself in this position after only three hours of knowing him, but Louis was _addictive._ He’s never even kissed anyone before today, and he’s already crossed so many bases with Louis alone.

Louis pulled away just a few inches, tangling his hands in Harry’s near-shoulder length hair. “We kinda moved in reverse there. Didn’t we, Styles?”

“Let alone knowing each other for less than twenty-four hours,” Harry comments, and the laugh it pulled out of Louis was nothing short of beautiful. 

“You’re not bad, Louis.” Harry tells him when they pull all the way back from each other.

“Neither are you.”

“Well, nobody thinks _I’m_ bad.”

“Watch it,” he smirks. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Harry shrugs. “Maybe. Kiss goodbye?” he jokes.

“I think we’ve done enough,” Louis laughs back, “I should let you know, though. A woman who looks just like you is kind of staring at us through her windshield.”

Harry looks to his right, his mother indeed staring right at the pair.

“Good luck with that,” Louis tells him before walking off.

Harry sighs to himself, lips pressed together as he walks over to his mother’s car, opening the passenger side door and hopping in.

She analyses her son and begins to drive out of the parking lot when he’s clicked his seatbelt in place.

At a red light, she stares at him again.

“He missed one,” is all she says.


	2. two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lots of talking. Lots of not talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter two ! 6.7k words  
> tw for the f slur at the end and mentions of past drug abuse.
> 
> also quite a bit of sexual content but that’s literally in the tags so if you’re uncomfy maybe this isn’t the fic for you
> 
> also their parents and siblings have different names and are original characters because i have an issue with bringing their actual family members into this oh well

The ride to the restaurant was mainly silent. Harry didn’t know what would happen at all, as he’s never quite found himself in _this_ position in front of his mom. Harry weirdly wasn’t anxious, though. He knew things at least would turn out fine.

There was just one thing actually. One _tiny_ thing.

His mom wasn’t exactly aware that he was gay.

It’s not like Harry didn’t think she already knew, but he definitely never told her. She’s not in any way homophobic, which is why he wasn’t scared to tell her, but he just never got around to it. 

That’s a lie. It would be awkward, and he hates awkward situations. That’s the real reason he put off telling her.

“Well at least I don’t have to come out to you now,” he jokes aloud, gaining a scoff from Andrea, his mother. 

“Guess so,” she says, attempting to hide her smile.

“Wait, yeah you do!” Harry’s sister announces from the backseat, successfully scaring the shit out of him as he had no idea she was there.

“Fucking hell, Val!” Harry jumps, laughing through his shout.

“ _Harry_ ,” his mother says, her glare boring into his head without her even looking at him. 

“Sorry.”

“Are you straight-up gay, or like bisexual?” She asks him, and both Harry and Andrea bust out into laughter.

“Val can be funny sometimes,” Harry shrugs.

“Right.”

Harry snorts before looking back at his younger sister. “No part of me is attracted to any woman. Women are lovely, but I would not bone them.”

Harry gets slapped on the knee by his mother, barking out a loud laugh at the look on her face.

“Speaking of _boning_ ,” she says, which makes Harry laugh even harder, “what on earth were you even doing with that guy to have a fucking hickey on the back of your neck?”

Harry didn’t know whether to lie or tell the truth about that one. 

“I’m still a virgin, at least,” he allows, making his sister snort and leaving his mother wishing she didn’t hear that. The question was _rhetorical_.

“Okay, well,” she starts, “when did you meet him?”

Harry rolled his eyes. This answer’s gonna have its own revolt. “In sixth period.”

“Ha ha, Harry. Seriously, how long ago did you meet him? Is he your boyfriend?”

“ _Seriously,_ mom. I met him three hours ago.”

“My God, Harry.”

“Sorry?”

“In his defence,” Val chimes in, “that dude was hot as fuck.”

Harry looks at his mom with a blank look on his face as she points back to Val. “She gets it.”

“ _Please_ tell me you know his name,” Andrea begs, “please. If you say _anything_ good, let it be that you know his name.”

Harry smirks to himself as he thinks of a way to mess with her.

“Nope,” he says with a shrug. “I’m not sure.”

“It’s easy, Harry,” Val tells him, aware that he’s messing with their mom. “Go back to forty minutes ago. What name were you moaning?”

Harry cackles loudly at that, his face turning red in embarrassment as he finds himself amused at Andrea’s expression. His poor, poor mother.

“I’m joking, mom,” he tells her, “I have _some_ decency. His name is Louis.”

“Aw,” she coos, “is that French?”

Harry twists his face in mock-confusion, shaking his head in such a way that let her know he was offended.

“I don’t _know_ ,” he sasses, “I didn’t exactly ask what origin his _name_ was from as he was giving me all of these!”

“How many even are there?” Val asks him.

“Enough to start _really_ liking turtlenecks,” Harry jokes, referencing what Louis told him earlier. 

“You better be hoping they go away before your father gets back in a few days,” Andrea tells him, “he still thinks of you as his little boy. Let at least _him_ be in denial that you’re a legal adult who fucks around.”

Harry agrees to that. His father was a very kind man who loved Harry and valued his time more than anything. Harry wouldn’t dare burden him with something as foul as the conversation he just had with his mom and sister.

“Jokes aside,” Harry tells them quietly as he looks down at his lap while fiddling with his fingers, “I think I really do like him. It’s not just sexual. People think he’s bad news, but what I just experienced with him… I wish they’d give him a chance.”

“For what it’s worth,” Andrea says in reply, “you guys actually look natural together. I was watching him awfully apply that makeup to your neck as he made you laugh. I could feel the chemistry from here. Just be careful, H.”

“He’s English,” Harry tells them with a small, mischievous giggle.

“Dear God, Harry.” Andrea shakes her head while laughing at her son. “What am I gonna do with you?”

. . .

  
  


When the trio finally arrived home from their dinner, Harry tried to be subtle as he made his way up to his room. He breathes heavily as he closes the door and quietly locks it, gasping in relief as he wrestles his skinnies off. After ripping his shirt off, he falls back onto the soft comforter that coated his mattress. 

He shudders as he finally shoves his hand down his boxers, having been left semi-hard for _hours_. Harry bit down on his lip hard enough to bleed as he suppressed what he assumed would’ve been a loud groan. After slipping out his hand to spit on his palm, he mimicked his previous grip on his cock. His hand glides up and down it quickly, and it takes everything in Harry to not to moan out as he presses on one of the concealed marks on his neck.

“Fuck,” he lets escape his lips. Harry was thinking about how shamelessly Louis pressed him up against that board. Harry remembers the edge of it digging into his lower back, and how fucking _good_ the pain felt combined with the friction Louis created against his clothed cock. “Ah,” he whined, arching his back into his palm. 

Harry was painfully aware of how big an issue this was. However, he couldn’t really find it in himself to care.

He accidentally let out a high-pitched squeak at the memory of how Louis spoke to him, and his composure (if he had any to begin with) instantly flew out the window. Breathing thickly, Harry moves his arm faster and faster, gasping louder with every pump of his fist as he finds himself growing closer. 

Suddenly, he ceases the movement of his wrist. He groans as he moves over to his nightstand, jiggling open the last drawer. Harry sets his eyes on what he was looking for, whimpering aloud at the mental image of what he was about to do.

He removed the bottle from the drawer and flopped over onto his stomach. Harry was a bit anxious, but it was kind of cancelled out by also being a lot turned on. He’s never done this before. Of course he’s read up on it a lot, watched it even, but _doing_ it was different.

Harry takes a deep breath before uncapping the bottle and squeezing some onto his palm. Experimenting, he gives himself a stroke or two with his slicked up hand. 

“Fuck, that’s good,” he moans to himself. He pours more onto his right hand, paying specific attention in slicking up two of his fingers. Taking another deep breath, he hangs his head as he reaches behind himself. 

“Shit,” he hissed upon his finger’s contact to his entrance. He circles around it a few times, whimpering into his pillow before he removes his hand from behind him to empty more of the lube onto his hand. Quickly, Harry brings his hand back to his entrance. When he dips the tip of his finger inside, he groans gutturally followed by a shudder.

Harry takes the plunge, extending his entire finger inside himself slowly. It was _different_ , so to say, but he wanted to see it through. The more he got used to it, the better it started to feel. He pressed a second finger in soon after. Getting used to the stretch, Harry lets out an unintentionally loud groan.

Before he can even think about it, his brain is flooded with memories of Louis’ hands on him. Harry spreads his legs a little farther apart as he wonders what the other man’s bare skin looks like. Harry buried his face in his pillow as he reached down to his cock, stroking himself as his fingers moved inside himself at a medium pace. He then thinks how Louis might look when he touches himself, or what Louis meant when he said he wanted to fuck him. Of course he knew what he legitimately meant, but Harry’s talking _how_? He’s sort of pissed they never got to that step, but it’s probably for the best that they didn’t.

Harry falls forward when he releases his grip on his cock, a whining mess into his pillow as he desperately fingers himself. 

“ _Louis,_ ” he finds himself moaning, “fuck me— fuck!” Harry shouted when he rubbed against what he assumed was his prostate. He hits it again, grinding his cock against his blanket. “O-oh, _yes_ ,” he hisses.

He spreads his fingers apart then, stretching himself out further. Harry lost all hope of being quiet, shoving his face deeper into his pillow to muffle at least _some_ of the awful noises he’s making. He comes almost instantly when he thinks about Louis doing this to him, his finishing groan a weird mix between a shout and a needy whine.

Harry feels pathetic when he moves his comforter into a square on his floor next to his hamper. He practically laughs at himself when he trudges to the upstairs bathroom, not ready to face his family in case they heard any of… whatever that was. Maybe there was a better time to do that. Oh well. 

After his shower, Harry realises just how many marks Louis actually left. That man is trouble based on the four he left _alone_. There’s still one on the back of his neck, too. Fuck. Harry casually wonders if he’d leave them on his thighs, which of course he would, but that thought itself was a personal attack to Harry’s cock. 

He gets dressed quickly, goofily throwing a scarf around his neck before he meets his mother and sister downstairs.

“You’re a mess,” Val tells him the second he finishes descending the staircase, resulting in Harry rolling his eyes. 

Harry refused to make eye contact with his sister as he put his hair up. “What do you mean?”

She rolls her eyes too, walking in front of her brother when he exits the stair area. “I heard you yell ‘fuck’, so it was kind of obvious what you were doing.”

Andrea glared at her son when she saw the scarf around his neck. “I’m gonna hate whatever’s under that, but take the scarf off. That’s insane.”

Harry shrugs with a silly frown, taking off the dark blue fabric around his neck. 

“Never mind,” his mother says upon the reveal of his neck and chest, “put it back on.”

Harry laughs a bit, rolling his eyes. “I don’t wanna,” he whines, “not at home at least.”

He throws the scarf somewhere onto the couch, plopping down next to his sister. Andrea rolled her eyes at her son as he typed away on his phone as if nothing had happened.

Val laughs to herself, showing their mother her home screen. It was a picture of her and Harry. Harry was sixteen, Val was fifteen. 

“ _That_ ,” she points at Harry while showcasing the image, “is your baby boy. This cute little guy here? Yeah. _Covered_ in hickeys, mama. This is the _same boy._ ”

Andrea ignores her. 

“Awww!” Harry sarcastically coos while pulling his sister in for a side hug, “your homescreen is us! How cute!”

“Get that neck away from me,” she pushes Harry away, “it’s covered in marks from an Englishman’s fangs.”

Harry snorts a little to himself before going back to mindlessly play on his phone. He realises that he should get some work done soon enough, since he had paid little to no attention in any class of the day. His brain made it hard to stay focused on that subject, as it kept wandering back to Louis. 

He was thinking things like: How does he spend his time? What’s his favourite song? What town is he from? 

All that weird shit that Louis probably doesn’t care or think twice about. 

Harry also can’t stop thinking about how sweet he was back in the parking lot, and once again, why no one ever gives him a chance. For a split second, he thinks maybe that’s what he does. He seems nice at first, yet hurts you later. Harry really, really didn’t want to believe that—especially when he has absolutely no firsthand reason to. Harry rolled his eyes to himself when he was hit with the reality of how little they knew each other and how quickly Louis leeched onto him. Does he do that with anyone he finds attractive? It makes Harry a little uneasy, but he’s definitely not naïve enough to believe he’s the only one Louis has instantly pounced on. 

“Isn’t your fuckbuddy a little troublemaker?” Val asks aloud, “he’s the new guy, isn’t he?”

Harry snaps out of his thoughts at that, “uh, yeah. He’s new. People kept warning each other about it on social media. It’s weird.”

“They probably should,” Val tells him. “Have you even heard the things they’re saying?”

“No,” Harry admits. “For all we know, it could be rumours.”

She rolled her eyes at him. “Harry, he’s literally been to jail.”

“And?”

“For a DUI. At _fifteen_. He didn’t even have a license then. He got caught with fucking _coke_ in his system.”

Harry took a deep breath as Val stared at him. What she said was a little disheartening, but it seems she isn’t thinking past what it looks like.

“Tons of teens involved in drugs or alcohol is because their families are shit,” Harry explains. “I understand the concern, but how is that his fault specifically? I don’t know him more than even you do, but still.”

“He could’ve killed someone,” Val tells her brother. “ _Killed_.” 

“It was a fucking _car accident._ ”

“He was drunk _and_ high, H.”

Harry shook his head at her, desperately trying to tap out of the conversation. He wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t a little… concerned, for lack of a better word, but he still doesn’t think he should judge him based on that. It was more than likely a mistake. Nobody gets into a crash on purpose. He’s more worried for Louis than he is disturbed by him, but he’s not sure he can express that without sounding like an innocent child.

“Yeah, I don’t know, Harry. I’m all for being open-minded, but you should be safe. You don’t even know him,” his mother chimed in. “Just make sure he’s worth your time. We’d all hate to watch you get involved in something that would suck to get out of.”

Harry shrugs before he gets up off the couch and makes his way to his room. He entertains the idea of just going to sleep and worrying about everything tomorrow, but he knows better than that. He stays up for a while doing his schoolwork from the day, then struggles through his four hours of sleep. 

. . . 

Harry walks into his school building the next day tired and irritated. He doesn’t know what Thursday has in store for him, but he’s hoping it’s positive. He’s in another irritated mood just like yesterday, and he wishes something would pull him out of it. 

Luckily though, his sister was nice enough to actually touch up his neck even though she annoyingly gagged the entire time. 

Harry met up with Niall again, just like always. He greets him happily and Harry struggles to match his energy. He doesn’t know why and he doesn’t want to hurt his friends’ feelings, but he can’t help it.

Liam joins them about five minutes later, but Harry’s mentally out the door. He’s focusing on everything but his friends. He’s sure he heard Niall call his name multiple times, but oh well. He’ll understand, won’t he?

His attention was really stunted when he watched Louis walk in the entrance wearing something that Harry enjoyed. Oops.

He wore a deep-necked shirt that showed off the start of his tanned shoulders in a tasteful way. The low neck showed off yet another tattoo he owns. Harry doesn’t know what it says, but he wishes to know. Harry never noticed how petite his waist actually was, but something about it was attractive. He also notices a silver necklace he either didn’t have on or didn’t notice yesterday. It looks like a singular letter, and once again, Harry’s extremely curious about everything to do with _Louis._

Louis walks by him without even acknowledging him, which honestly pains Harry a bit. Again, it’s not like they’re actually close or anything, it still hurts either way. 

“Why are you checking out Tomlinson?” Niall asks Harry, the first thing he actually understood in a few minutes.

“They were seriously flirting yesterday,” Liam tells Niall, “it was so awkward. Their sexual tension is weirdly strong. It’s terrifying.”

“What the hell?” Niall laughs.

“Dude, I just sat there. I literally just _sat there_ as he eye-fucked Harry.”

“We get it,” says Harry, “stop talking about it.”

He catches Louis walking back suddenly, and his determined facial expression was weirdly attractive. He saw the man hesitate for a second before walking up to Harry. Niall and Liam looked at Harry as if he were insane, which he probably was. He’s not going to lie. They averted their gaze to Louis next, who made Harry seem even more crazy than he actually is.

“Harry,” he calls, and the pair suddenly engage in serious eye contact. There was a glint of teasing in Louis’ eyes, but they were tired. His entire face looked exhausted. He was paler than he was yesterday and posture slumped ever so slightly. They sat there staring at each other for what felt like hours, and Harry felt as if Louis looked hurt. He wants to ask if he’s okay, but Harry fears he’d overstep.

“Yeah?”

Louis looks at the way Niall and Liam’s eyes were set on him. After analysing their facial expressions, Louis sighs.

“You know what?” he tells Harry, yet he’s still looking at Niall.

“Never mind, love,” he looks back at Harry. “What I planned to say was highly obscene, anyway.” He licks his lips a bit, looking back at Harry’s friends to see their reactions. “Don’t think they’d like to hear.”

Harry hitches his breath a little. “Maybe not.”

Louis smiles at him teasingly. “You’re probably right. Later, lads.”

As he walks away, Harry’s friends stare at him.

“You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into,” Niall tells him with a shake of his head. “I don’t know what the hell that was, but it’s definitely not good.”

Harry rolls his eyes at him with a deep sigh. “It’s nothing, anyway.”

It wasn’t long before Harry found out the man was in his first period too. Of course the only empty seat was across from him. Again.

He spent the entire period trying to ignore Louis. It’s not like he even did anything, but he’s conflicted about what Val said. He also really feels like he should get some work done today. He feels awful right now, and it probably translates back to his lack of sleep. It fucking sucks that he has to work tonight.

Niall sat beside Harry, watching every move he made if it was anything like even looking at Louis. He didn’t know what his fucking issue was, but it was annoying Harry. Severely.

He decides to get a better look at Louis’ tattoo. It was a singular _L_ in a lowercase cursive font. Harry was quite positive it didn’t stand for Louis, which fuelled his curiosity further. Harry also looks down at his hands, perfectly sculpted and evident calluses on his fingertips. Harry wants to ask which stringed instrument he plays. Before he gets consumed by that thought, he notices a tattoo on his hand. They were most definitely initials. 

_L.A.T._

He has a feeling that goes with his necklace. 

“I know what you’re looking at,” Louis tells him in a sing-song tone, “and I’m going to ask you _once_ to stop.” He looks up at Harry with a sarcastic smile.

“Huh?”

“I know what you’re thinking, too. You’re wondering if the writing on my hand has anything to do with the necklace. I’ll give you one thing. It does. Do _not_ ask about it. I’m not going to give you an answer. I’ll ignore you and probably kick you in the balls.” 

“Noted,” Harry tells him, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He watches Louis glance up at him with hostility darkening his eyes.

Harry just had to ask. “Are you okay?”

Louis scoffs in reply. “We don’t know each other like that,” he tells him. “Don’t expect me to tell you personal things about me. I tolerate you. You’re cute, hot, whatever. That little innocence thing you got going,” he waves his hand in a circle referencing Harry as a whole, “...really turns me on. I’m not going to lie to you. But that’s all it is. I’ve known you for a whopping nineteen hours and you already know more of my personality than I usually show _anyone_. I want to do _unspeakable_ things to you,” he smirks, licking his lips a bit before continuing, “but I don’t care for your curiosity.”

Harry pressed his lips together while he shut his eyes, taking in everything Louis was telling him. Maybe Niall was fucking _right._ Disgusting.

“And that hurt kitten look you’re giving me?” Louis adds, “not going to work. I didn’t ask about your two-lettered tattoo that _obviously_ stands for something, so don’t think about asking about the meaning behind mine.”

Niall’s eyebrows furrowed. “That tattoo is on the back of his shoulder.”

“Okay?” Louis shook his head as if to ask him who asked, “he has multiple hickeys that root back to the shape of my teeth all over his neck and chest and _that’s_ what you’re concerned about?” 

“In case you haven’t noticed, I can’t see what you’re talking about,” Niall fired back.

“It doesn’t take a PhD to tell that there’s splotches of skin that are the slightest bit discoloured on his neck,” Louis tells him. “That’s a trick as old as life itself. Anyone who takes a second look at him can tell what he’s hiding.”

Harry doesn’t know why he feels like crying at the moment. He tries to distract himself as he looks down at his paper, scribbling things that don’t have meaning in the margins of his handout. 

“Now you feel used,” Louis observes, “sorry, Styles, but not once did I say that this meant anything. We’re not friends. Don't act surprised.”

The trio sat in silence for the remainder of the class period. Harry seriously hated himself when he peaked at the skin of Louis’ stomach when he stretched, or of his chest when he satisfied an itch under his defined collarbones. 

Harry went about his next few classes upset and ignoring his friends. He really didn’t know why he was surprised, Louis himself did bring up a good point. At least Harry wasn’t too attached though, right? It’d be easy to forget this whole thing, right?

Wrong.

“Is your car still stranded in the parking lot?” Louis asks, making Harry jump because he didn’t know the man was behind him.

“Yes,” Harry replied, shuddering when Louis started massaging his hips from behind. “Why?”

“Do you have your keys?”

“Yes.”

“Give me them.”

This was a bad idea. Harry knew it was an awful, awful idea. 

Still, Harry found himself in the back of his car, his shirt long discarded by Louis.

His lips were on Harry’s neck again, sucking and biting more marks into his skin. He moaned unfortunately loud as Louis palmed him through his jeans.

Louis smiled against Harry’s neck, leaning off of him to admire the view. The visual of Harry’s long legs draped around him was stunning to Louis. He’s not one for classical music, but he’d gladly compose a symphony inspired by his thighs. 

Louis was quite interested in Harry’s other tattoos, matching fern leaves on each side of his abdomen. He decides to leech his mouth around that area as he fumbles with Harry’s jean button. Louis felt a bit claustrophobic actually, due to Harry’s car being so fucking _small_.

“What’d you do last night?” Louis asks him, “you know, when you got home? Did you wank it out?” he pulls down the other man’s jeans, “did you think of me?”

“Fuck,” Harry cursed, jolting as Louis moves his palm over the one layer separating his hand from Harry’s cock, “yeah,” he replies, “I’m not going to lie to you.”

Louis nods with a mischievous smile. “Me too,” he tells him as he tries his best to slip down his own skinnies. “I want you so bad. It’s fucking weird. I’ve never wanted to fuck someone as bad as I do you,” he compliments weirdly. Harry could feel Louis touching himself through his boxers as he crashed his lips against the younger man’s. It spurred Harry on even more knowing he had that effect on him. 

Harry moaned into his mouth when Louis gripped his hips harshly. He could feel Louis’ lips turn up into a smile at that. 

Louis rubbed his hands up and down Harry’s pale thighs as they kissed heatedly, eventually hiking them up farther around his waist.

Harry’s brain was foggy as Louis licked into his mouth again. There’s something about the heat of his body and the man groaning into his mouth mixed with how his tongue operates that sends Harry into absolute oblivion. Once again, the rush of cigarettes and spearmint bested him. He wanted Louis. He wanted him bad. 

“Have you ever fingered yourself?” Louis asks against his lips.

“Yes,” Harry gasped, whining when Louis ground against his growing hardness, “yesterday,” he pants, “for the first time.”

“Fuck,” Louis bites Harry’s bottom lip in response to that, “did you wish it was me?”

“Please,” Harry whines, tightening his legs around Louis, “p-please,” he begs before shoving his hand down his boxers and moving his hand rapidly.

“Shit, babe,” Louis stares into Harry’s eyes as the younger of the two touches himself. “Fuck, you’re gagging for it, aren’t you?”

“Take them off,” Harry begs, “yours, too.”

Louis does as he says, licking his lips at the way Harry’s large cock practically sprung out.

“Oh, damn.” He comments. “You’re hung.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Harry rolls his eyes with a slight blush, “take your pants off.”

Louis, once again, does as he says—but not before finally stripping off his own shirt. Harry got a better look at his chest tattoo then, the words “it is what it is'' spread nicely under his collarbones. Harry’s curious, yet again, and a memory of their conversation from earlier made its way into his head. He felt kind of bad about it, but it all went away as he looked up and caught a glimpse of Louis climbing back between his thighs. He was bigger than what Harry even thought.

“Fuck,” he whimpers loudly, returning his hand to his own member and stroking quickly. Louis chokes a little at that, and Harry smirks to himself because of it.

Louis quickly shifts and pins Harry’s hands above his head, moves to sit on top of his thighs, and begins moving his hips on top of Harry. He cried out beautifully at the contact of both of their cocks rubbing together, immediately arching his back in a way that Louis could only describe as sinful. 

“Hell, I could make you come just like this,” Louis tells him as he returns his attention to his neck. “But I love the sounds you’re making. I can’t wait to hear how loud you are once I’m inside you.”

“H-how?” Harry gasps, “you don’t even have—“

“Pocket of my jeans,” Louis tells him, “you really thought I would plan to fuck you today and not come prepared? Have at least a little faith in me, sunshine.”

Harry whimpers at that for some reason. He’s always been a sucker for pet names, really. He can’t say he’s surprised it gets a reaction out of him in this context. 

He moves over to grab Louis’ discarded skinny jeans, fumbling around in the pockets to get what he was looking for. Harry picks out a singular packet of lube and twists his face together as he looks at Louis while holding it up.

“This is definitely not enough.”

“Duh. There’s like four in there.”

There was, indeed four packets in his pocket. He handed them to Louis, who ripped open one with his teeth before he dropped his shoulders, losing all of his spark.

“You’re a virgin.”

“So?” Harry says, “you didn’t have an issue with that yesterday.”

Louis rolls his darkened eyes at him. “Not what I meant.”

“What do you mean then?”

“I’m not taking your virginity in the back of a fucking Corolla.”

Fair point, Harry thinks. The thought was genuinely sweet, but fuck if he tells Louis that. He’d probably leave him hard and never touch him again. 

“I do want to have sex with you, but we’re not doing it here. I may be a jackass, yes, I’m aware, but I’m decent enough to not want to do this. You already want me to fuck you, that’s bad enough. I’m not making it worse by taking your virginity in a _Toyota_ , of all cars. A Mercedes? Maybe. A Corolla? Absolutely not.” 

Harry snickers at that, and so does Louis. The little moments like these, where they share small laughs and soft looks is what Harry wishes Louis was like all the time. Maybe then they’d work, even just as friends.

“I’m still hard.” Harry tells Louis, who laughs quietly.

“Want me to suck you off? Finger you a bit?”

The desperate moan Harry let out was what Louis took as a ‘yes’.

. . . 

Harry found out that he and Louis share a lot of classes. Harry’s in a lot of specially placed classes, which means Louis progresses and earns about the same grades that Harry does. Louis only showed up to school yesterday at their sixth hour. In reality, he shared first, third, fifth, and sixth period with Harry. He didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing.

It was definitely a bad thing now though. 

Niall’s in this class too. He’s eyeing Harry and Louis insanely and it is _annoying_. Harry really doesn’t know what’s been going on with his friend lately, but he’s about tired of it. 

“You guys have a weird vibe,” is all he says for the rest of the period.

Louis spends the period teasing Harry, which often garnered glances, but he only found it amusing. He liked how much control he had over Harry. It was thrilling, riveting, exciting, rousing, all of the above. 

At the end of the day, Louis hung back as Harry waited for his mother to pick him up. He lit up a cigarette and stood a few feet away, not sure if Harry enjoyed smoke near him. He didn’t wait because he cared about him. Far from it. The area their school is in is extremely sketchy, that’s all. Harry couldn’t take a mugger. Louis, on the other hand? He could.

Louis’ phone rang his text tone. As he pulls it out of his pocket, he blows out the smoke he’d just ingested. 

The message that showed up made him want to throw said phone into the fucking ocean.

He rolled his eyes to the back of his head before he roughly sat down on the pavement ground. Louis felt as if he could seriously hurt someone. 

Harry noticed his upset expression and walked over to him, despite him trying to pretend he didn’t know Louis was there. 

Great. Another thing Louis needed, dealing with the curiosity of Harry. The kid’s alright, he admits that. He just cannot deal with how many questions he does or doesn’t ask. Whether they’re voiced or not, they’re evident in his green-toned eyes. 

Harry sat six feet away from him, sighing as he watched Louis finish a cigarette and immediately light up another one.

“Are you okay?” Harry asks for the second time today. Louis shot him a hostile glance, one that genuinely terrified Harry. “I- I know you told me not to ask.”

“I did.” Louis confirms with a nod.

“And I know we don’t know each other.”

“We don’t.”

“But I’m a nice guy. I’m not asking for your life story, I just want to make sure that you’re doing well. I don’t care if we’re not friends. I care about everyone.”

That’s the issue, Louis thinks. He fucking cares about everyone. He just cannot leave it alone to save his life.

“Harry,” Louis began in a fury-filled calmness, “I don’t know how you work. Frankly, I don’t _care_ how you work. I told you what this was. You knew what this was. This does not concern you, so, again, please do not ask.”

“I know, but—“

“No,” Louis interrupts. “Just leave it alone. I know that’s hard for you, ‘cause you see the good in everyone and you have this purity about you that makes you want everyone in the world to be okay. You want to be a safe space for anyone who needs it, and that’s nice, but not for me. I don’t need that. I _told_ you I don’t need that,” he breathes, looking to the side as he scoffs. “I…” 

For the first time, Louis thought maybe he was a bit too harsh. He never really does, but the hurt kitten look _does_ work on Louis. For some reason, he felt a pang of anger towards himself when he made Harry upset. Watching his bright green eyes fall with his eyebrows into a pout makes Louis _physically_ feel like he’s doing something wrong. He can’t help but feel bad when it comes to Harry. What is that? He’s known the guy for twenty-four hours. All he knows is the world isn’t right when Harry isn’t smiling.

“I don’t hate you, Harry. I simply like to be myself without it needing to be deep.”

Harry nods sadly. “Yup. Understandable.”

Another notification lights up on Louis’ phone, the message that popped up this time lighting a new fury in him. 

“I like to be alone,” Louis explains. “I’m an independent person.”

“Then why the hell are you even here?” Harry asks suddenly. “Nobody asked you to be here.”

Louis widens his eyes with an exaggerated frown as he nods. “Nice. Thanks for that.”

Harry scoffs aloud as he gets up off the ground. “You _just_ fucking said—“

“And?!” Louis flips, “this area is fucking sketchy, Harry. I may not care to live in your world where nobody ever fucking frowns, but I’m sure as hell not leaving you alone out here.”

“I’m a fucking adult!” Harry snaps, “I don’t need you to watch over me.”

“I’m not—“ Louis trails off. “Watching over…”

“Once again,” Harry starts, “you _just—_ “

“Just because I like to be alone doesn’t mean you do!” Louis points out. “I was trying to be _nice._ See, I haven’t known you for that long but I already _get_ you.” 

Harry’s mouth clamped shut at that. He didn’t know what that was supposed to mean. 

“You’re an introvert, but you don’t like being completely alone half the time. You like being alone _with_ someone. You like the way that there’s someone familiar nearby, that- that there’s just someone _there_. You don’t care if the two of you have a conversation or not.”

That was… completely correct. Harry was a bit insecure now. Was he really that easy to figure out?

“You’re just…” Louis continues, “everything that I’m not. You like knock-knock jokes and puns, I did cocaine when I was fourteen. We’re not the same at all.”

Louis hung his head, irritated at himself for saying something like that. Seriously, why did he have to say that?

For some reason though, he continued.

“That doesn’t mean you’re bad. You’re so good, Harry. You’re everything I wanted to be when I was younger,” he tells him. “You’re just better than me. I’m fucking weird,” Louis compares with a laugh. 

“I don’t even know where I was going with this,” Louis admits. “The point is, we’re different in every single way. I don’t want to make you mad when I refuse your help, but that’s just who I am. If you’re going to be in my life in any way, you have to accept that.”

Harry truly didn’t know what to say. It was hard to take in all the information that was just thrown at him, but he did his best to deal with it anyway. Never had Harry been more emotionally invested in wanting to get close to someone.

“Sorry for all that,” Louis scoffs. “I’m a bit irritated right now.”

“That’s okay,” Harry says quietly. “If you need to go, you can.”

“I do, actually.”

Harry nods again. “Walk safe.”

Louis did walk off, but with no reply to Harry.

. . . 

“You can’t ‘forbid’ me from seeing them,” Louis argues. “You can’t. They’re gonna ask where I am and then get upset. They grew up with me. They already miss me.”

“I most certainly can,” his father argues. “You don’t even deserve to see them. You’re fucking hilarious for thinking you get to be in contact with them again.”

“I just saw them yesterday!” Louis yells, “they’re fine, aren’t they?! You told me I could visit as long as I don’t take them anywhere. I haven’t driven in four years. I’m not doing anything you told me not to do.”

“I’m not comfortable with you around the girls,” the man explains. “Your tattoos and… you know… are a bad influence.”

“Being gay?” Louis laughs. “Being gay is a ‘bad influence’? Okay. Do you want me to fuck a woman so I can see my fucking sisters?”

“That’s not how it works, Louis.”

“Uh, I know, _dad._ I’m the fucking fag here.”

He scoffs. “That’s not what I said.”

“It’s what you wanted to say,” Louis argues. “You just won’t go as far to call me that. It’s what you’re thinking.”

His father, James, scoffs again. “Who cares. That’s not what we’re talking about.”

“Sounds like it.”

“You can’t see them anymore,” James stands firmly with his belief. “End of discussion.”

“Is this just because I’m gay? Seriously?”

“No, you know why,” his father tells him. “You’ve got her initials everywhere, Louis. Tattooed, on a fucking necklace. Don’t act stupid. You’re not stupid. You know why I don’t want you near them.”

“I’m not going to hurt them. Are you insane?”

Louis was fuming. He couldn’t believe this was actually happening. There was _no way_ this was happening. Nope. He refuses to believe it. His sisters are the only things that keep him sane.

“No, but I would be if I let you continue to keep seeing them.”

“You’re a fucking douchebag.”

“Am I a douchebag, or am I protecting my daughters?”

“For the second fucking time!” Louis yells at him, “I haven’t driven in years. I don’t plan on driving, especially with them in the car, anytime soon.”

“I don’t know if I can trust you.”

Louis rolls his eyes. “Why? Do you think I’m high? I’ve been sober for years, too.”

James shrugs. “Get a drug test that comes back negative for cocaine and heroin, maybe I’ll change my mind.”

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“You’re not doing that anymore, are you?” he asks his son.

“No!”

“Then why don’t you just agree? You seem like you’re hiding something.”

“I’m not agreeing because you are legitimately insane.”

The older man sighs again. “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.”

Louis bites his lip hard before he chooses his next few words. “I’ll get you the fucking drug test.”

“Good.”


End file.
